


they paved paradise, and put up a parking lot

by DontDrinkColdCoffee (morallygreywaren)



Category: The Witcher (TV)
Genre: Ciri is the long-suffering child they keep changing between each other, Crack, Geralt says maybe three words in this, I'm not sure I can tag it, Jaskier is Geralt's boyfriend, Jaskier is Justin Bieber, M/M, Modern AU, Sniping ensues, Yennefer is his ex-wife, also this obviously unbeta'ed, because i wasn't going to subject anyone beyond the two intended readers to this braindump, but here we are!, but i am, never thought i'd break a four year fic hiatus with witcher crack of all things, so if you take it seriously it's your own fault
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-19
Updated: 2020-04-19
Packaged: 2021-03-01 17:20:27
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,475
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23740705
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/morallygreywaren/pseuds/DontDrinkColdCoffee
Summary: “Enchantée,” Jaskier crooned, pulling a smile on his face that looked painful. Or at least, it would be if Yen attempted it. “The great Yennefer of Vengerberg. I’ve heard so much about you.”“I wish I could say the same,” Yen replied. “But I’m afraid until moments ago I was under the impression that you were a woman.”She hadn’t given Geralt the pointed glare, but it seemed that he was not above that. It wasn’t wholly unexpected that Geralt may… cross the stream, as it were. There had certainly been signs.And she wasn’t going to be a bitch about it. Well, no more than usual. But really, what kind of self-respecting young man went by “buttercup”?Yen is Geralt's ex-wife and every two weeks, they exchange their daughter, Ciri. (Usually in a McDonald's parking lot.) And that would be fine! But Geralt has a new boyfriend, Jaskier, and neither can stop goading each other.
Relationships: Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier | Dandelion
Comments: 18
Kudos: 354





	they paved paradise, and put up a parking lot

**Author's Note:**

  * For [TeeDee](https://archiveofourown.org/users/TeeDee/gifts).



> This whole thing is based on [this post](https://www.tumblr.com/likes/blog/mortuarybees/190106091152) and mine and [TeeDee's](https://archiveofourown.org/users/TeeDee/pseuds/TeeDee) conviction that the best Yen and Jaskier interactions are the ones that are like "the ex-wife and the current husband exchanging the child for a holiday in the taco bell parking lot."
> 
> I set this in modern day England (because all the actors are British and I know fuck all about other countries), so I've picked McDonald's instead.

Why exactly Yennefer had agreed to meet Geralt in the parking lot of a McDonald’s on the M4 to drop Ciri off with him would possibly forever be beyond her. It was likely that one of her assistants had arranged this without checking in with her. Probably Istredd. Bastard.

But on the upside, Geralt was going on holiday for two weeks and taking Ciri with him, and as much as she loved her daughter, it would be a welcome reprieve on her evenings.

She nearly didn’t spot Geralt’s Range Rover amid the other cars that looked like they were handled by secret agents and had to park a couple of rows away. This parking lot sure was popular.

“Come on, darling.” She petted Ciri’s head and opened the doors for them. “Time to jet off with your dad.”

Ciri didn’t need to be told twice, ripping off her seatbelt and flitting across the parking lot to where Geralt was emerging from his car, long blond hair whipping behind her. Would the tiny stabs at her heart from watching her child run from her ever go away?

She got Ciri’s suitcase out from the trunk and strolled towards them as Ciri attempted a new record of pulling herself up onto Geralt’s shoulders by using only his hair. Dangerous ground, for anyone else. But Geralt was smiling as he bundled her up and put her on the ground again for a long hug.

“Long time no see.” She reached up for a short embrace when she reached Geralt as well, the familiar sense of her family all in one place washing over her. No, she didn’t regret her divorce. But she sometimes regretted Ciri not being able to grow up with both her parents there for every moment.

It took her by surprise when then passenger door to Geralt’s car opened. But it could only be.. Oh.

“Care to introduce us, Geralt?” A young man rounded the front of the car, stepped forward and bowed to Yen, rolling his wrist in fake humility.

“Jaskier.” Geralt nodded. “Yen.” You’d think they were rationing syllables.

But the name was familiar. Had Istredd mentioned it? Coming to think of it, it was unlikely that he should grow the balls to tell her that Geralt had a new partner and was taking them on holiday with Ciri. But the information was not completely new to her, so he must have. Maybe he _was_ due a payrise.

“ _Enchantée,_ ” Jaskier crooned, pulling a smile on his face that looked painful. Or at least, it would be if Yen attempted it. “The great Yennefer of Vengerberg. I’ve heard so much about you.”

“I wish I could say the same,” Yen replied. “But I’m afraid until moments ago I was under the impression that you were a woman.”

 _She_ hadn’t given Geralt the pointed glare, but it seemed that he was not above that. It wasn’t wholly unexpected that Geralt may… cross the stream, as it were. There had certainly been signs.

And she wasn’t going to be a bitch about it. Well, no more than usual.

But _really_ , what kind of self-respecting young man went by “buttercup”?

* * *

The two weeks of holiday with Geralt and Ciri had come close to what Jaskier would describe as bliss. It was an unusual holiday to the extent that a few months into a relationship, your first holiday to a mountain lodge next to a lake in an expensive looking European country didn’t usually include your partner’s child from their first marriage.

But. “I want you to meet Ciri,” Geralt had said. “I’d like you to get to know her better.” And Jaskier had no mental capacity to object when Geralt used that voice. And so the past two weeks had been a delightful ride of relaxing family time and day trips to villages he couldn’t pronounce and being plied with wine by Geralt and having his hair braided by Ciri.

Near bliss, as mentioned. What Geralt hadn’t told him, however, was that said holiday would end in a tragic meal at McDonald’s with his ex-wife.

There they were, Ciri excitedly babbling away about the games they’d played in the lake and munching on her chips, while Yen, Jaskier and Geralt stared each other down about who would take the first bite of their burger.

It was painfully obvious that neither Geralt nor Yen where the kind of people who would ever even set a foot in a fast food restaurant, let alone eat anything that wasn’t part of a diet approved by a nutritionist. And Jaskier shouldn’t really. But it was silly to let Ciri eat alone.

This was the opportunity Yen had waited for it seemed. The second he had taken a bite of his burger, she asked: “So tell me, _Jaskier_ , how did you meet Geralt?”

The piece of meat in his mouth became unwieldy immediately. Yen was just sitting there, playing with the hair of her daughter and tracing circles on her back, but somehow managed to look more intimidating than any headmistress Jaskier ever had to report to.

He wagered fifty percent of the effect came from the heavy eye make-up. He added it to his mental list of reasons to begin wearing it as well.

But before Jaskier could say anything, Ciri piped up. “Daddy met him at the concert.”

Yen’s eyebrows climbed up her forehead as her gaze swerved to Geralt. “I didn’t realise you went to concerts. Had time for some self-discovery?”

“But he does,” Ciri said, “Daddy goes to all of Jaskier’s concerts with me.”

Jaskier sighed at the look of utter bewilderment on Yen’s face, and swallowed his burger. He should have known that someone like Yen wouldn’t exactly be into pop culture.

“I’m a, uh, singer. I make music and Geralt comes to some of my concerts,” he hastened to add, “not all of them. Only the ones Ciri goes to. That’s how we met.”

What had really happened was that Ciri had won a meet and greet with Jaskier at a concert in London he had done a few months back. Some silly teen magazine competition his agent had talked him into, which he both hated – he wanted to meet all of his fans, thank you very much – and adored; such things were great for his ego after all.

Being only twelve, Ciri needed an adult to come with her, and Jaskier thanked his lucky stars daily that she decided to ask Geralt instead of Yennefer. In hindsight, it probably had been highly inappropriate to insist on giving Geralt an autograph that consisted only of his phone number. But well, half a year later, and here they were. He loved to imagine Geralt going into Ciri’s room one evening and pointing to one of the posters on her wall, saying, “Uh. That singer you like. That one. What was his name again?”

“Oh that’s why you look familiar!” Yen’s laugh was definitely fake. “You’re a singer! I had been beginning to worry that you were one of Ciri’s teachers. You don’t see that colour combination on a shirt in many places outside of primary school.”

“Yeah, well, black clothing is not a replacement for a personality.” Jaskier grabbed his milkshake and reached for the straw with his tongue. He was being petulant, he knew. But there was no need to be rude. “How did you and Geralt meet then, anyway?”

“Well,” Yen cast her eyes down to see if Ciri was listening or engrossed in her phone. He grin was wolfish. “I’m happy to tell you. But it’ll have to wait until there are no minors in earshot.

“Yen.” Geralt placed his hand on Jaskier’s thigh, warm and heavy, and he was glad that it wasn’t him on the end of that warning glare for once. Geralt sure knew how to pick them.

“He asked,” Yen said, eyes straining to one side in a subtle dismissive glare. “But how lovely and you’re protective over him. The young ones always need a bit of extra protection.”

“I’m thirty-one!”

A small smile curled around Yen’s lips as she leaned back. “Yeah, not helping yourself there.”

“Yen.” Geralt’s hand on Jaskier’s thigh tightened even as he stared down Yen. This was still a pretty distracting situation for Jaskier. It’s not like he was _dainty_ , but under Geralt’s grip his thighs felt like twigs. “We didn’t come here for you to be rude.”

It was Jaskier’s turn to warily eye the two of them and the trays in front of them. “Well, it certainly wasn’t the food.”

* * *

It didn’t really get any better from there.

Jaskier aimed to be out when Yen came around to pick Ciri up, but often enough, he wasn’t. Worse than that, Geralt’s propensity not to wear shirts meant it was usually Jaskier who opened the door to her.

“Jaskier.”

“Yennefer.”

“Bad night’s sleep?” Her smile was real, but the concern was fake.

Jaskier leaned against the doorframe. “Haven’t gone to bed yet, actually.”

“Right, sorry.” She pushed past him into the flat, but paused when her face was close to his. “Mistook your crow’s feet for tiredness.”

Jaskier flared his nostrils but let her go to get Ciri and willed his jaw to unclench. If he needed to, he could always get Geralt to make it up to him later. But at this rate, he’d have to put in _a lot_ of effort.

There were times Jaskier had the upper hand of course. Like that time he ran into her in a nightclub after a gig. He didn’t usually go out after shows anymore, but Ciri and Geralt hadn’t been at the concert and it was the birthday of one of his band members.

“Oh. Yen.” Up until this point, he had only ever worried about running into Valdo Marx as a potential reason that might ruin his evening. So spotting Yen of all people in the smoking area of his favourite club was a bit of a downer. “I didn’t realise the current situation with the government allowed for any time to go out and party.”

Yen looked up at him, and oh, this was good. She was not just out and partying, she was drunk. Three sheets to the wind. Five sheets, if that were possible. Was that possible? He didn’t know anything about nautical figures of speech.

“I’m a special adviser, not a politician. I can do what I want,” she slurred, and Jaskier took a step back. He was not wearing the kind of shoes he could allow puke on.

“Yes, you can.” A man who looked strangely like had had gotten dressed that morning on the off chance that he might match with Yennefer’s outfit stepped up to her and placed a hand on her lower back.

She swerved his touch, though, and ran the risk of staggering into a patio heater. “Not now, Istredd.”

He caught her, but she batted his hand away again. Jaskier sighed but smiled to himself. Maybe it wasn’t him. Maybe this was just how Yen was to everyone. Poor Ciri.

“Shall I call you and your boyfriend a cab?”

“Assistant,” Yen corrected. “And if you wouldn’t mind.”

Jaskier got his phone out of his pocket – he already couldn’t wait to tell Geralt about this later, even if he was only going to get one syllable reactions out of him – but his gaze caught on how affronted this Istredd guy looked.

“Sleeping with your assistant?” He snorted into his drink, mainly speaking to himself. “Original.”

Yen held a drunken hand out, finger raised as if to shush him. “Sleeping with _all_ my assistants, actually.”

“I’m not sure that’s the best thing to boast about to your ex’s boyfriend.” He put his phone away and flagged down a cab for them to bundle into instead. “Or your assistant.”

The looks he received from both of them were less than dignified, and he smiled. His work there was done.

“Have a good night!”

* * *

Jaskier was probably less than thrilled to receive a call from Yen a few weeks later. In truth, she was surprised that he even picked up. And that his number had been saved in her phone.

“Hello?” He sounded like he had just woken up. That would explain it. But she didn’t have time for semantics.

“I need you to distract Geralt for me.”

Jaskier didn’t reply immediately, and Yen used the opportunity to switch on her headset so it was easier to talk to him on the go.

“He’s supposed to pick Ciri up in about 15 minutes but I seem to have lost her and don’t want to stress him out.”

There were another few beats of silence on the other end of the line, and she began to wonder if he had hung up on her. Only few who dared to do so lived.

Then: “You have _what_?”

“Look, it’s not as dramatic as it sounds. I took her shopping, we’re having a great day out, Geralt was supposed to pick her up after. But this shopping centre is massive and now Ciri seems to be gone, so I just need a bit of a buffer before I can hand her over to Geralt. Are you not with him?”

“Uh, no,” Jaskier said. “Naturally, he’s on the way to pick her up already. You know, like a responsible parent.”

Yen rolled her eyes. “Honestly, it’s not like she’s five, she’ll be fine. I just don’t want Geralt to come here and make a scene. You know how he gets, all shouting at staff, tearing his shirt off, leaving no stone unturned antics, and I don’t need that in my life right now. I do want to come shop here again.”

“Wow, just wow,” Jaskier snorted. “Have you checked your moral compass at all lately or do you have to be born without one?”

“Oh my God, Jaskier, will you just call Geralt and make something up so he turns around to pick you up as well before coming here?” She didn’t have time for this. “It’s not that big a deal! Ciri’s not wheeling around Westfield’s crying, she’s like, 13 years old, she’ll be fine.”

“Ciri is twelve!”

“Look I know you think I’m a bad mother, but I’d just like to let you know that it was _me_ who first bought Ciri your album, and Lord knows it was a hard decision knowing I’d have to listen to that, that _crapulence_ day in day out.”

“Un-believable.” That was all Jaskier said, then he hung up.

Yen had been irritated before, but this call had driven her to near apoplexy. It would have been so much easier to just ignore Geralt when he got here and return with Ciri when she inevitably found her looking at garrulous earrings at Claire’s or wherever. But not that she’d spent all this time on the phone, she wouldn’t be able to look at all the shops Ciri could possibly be in – and she knew which ones those were, thank you very much – and knowing Jaskier, he was probably going to ignore her request anyway.

She ground her teeth together. There was an easy way out of this. But she did not want to take it. _Shopping Centre Management_ , it said in bold white letters on a blue board ahead. If there was anything she hated with a passion, it was speaker announcements that included people looking for others. That was the last option. While she still could, she would keep on looking.

Five minutes later she received a text from Jaskier.

_So I’ve called Geralt_

_…_

_And?_

_He’s come to pick me up_

_Thx_

_Have you found Ciri yet?_

_Nope_

_Okay, we’re nearly there_

_…_

_I_ may _have also told Geralt that you’ve lost her_

_You WHAT?_

“Yennefer!” And there Geralt was, exactly like she expected: Storming down the floor of the shopping centre, frothing at the mouth with fury, Jaskier in tow.

She couldn’t tell if he looked embarrassed or delighted by the drama. Maybe he was also concerned.

“What have you done?” Geralt’s voice was thunderous when he finally reached her. “Where is Ciri?”

Yen threw her head back. “I don’t know! I’m trying to find her!” She shot a glare at Jaskier over Geralt’s shoulder. “And if I didn’t constantly get interrupted, I’m sure I’d have found her already!”

“This is the kind of stuff people loose custody over!”

“Oh my God, will you stop being dramatic?” As _if_ Geralt would survive as a full-time single dad. “This is also my daughter we’re talking about, so if we could just continue looking-“

Jaskier cleared his throat. “We could split up, one floor per person. I’m sure she can’t be far.”

It had been concern on his face. Yen watched him place a hand between Geralt’s shoulder blades, which made his expression a degree less stormy, and he nodded.

She hadn’t really thought about it much before, but a part of her was glad that Jaskier was there for him. If it was a trait, she’d always thought that her and Geralt shared the opposite of “great with people”, and if there was even a single person that could show Ciri a slightly more… malleable side to human interaction, she really shouldn’t complain.

A group of three teenage girls came up to them, clearly terrified of Geralt and Yen put hesitantly pushing a piece of paper and pen in Jaskier’s direction. “Could we have your autograph and a picture, please?”

Even if that person happened to be some sort of teen pop sensation.

But before Jaskier could sign anything or they had a chance to split up floors to search between them, the loud speakers overhead crackled.

“Ladies and gentlemen, attention please. If there is a, uh, Yennefer von Vengerberg and uh, a Geralt Riv-River-Rivieria and – what does this last one say? – Julian – oh, not his name? Anyway, if a Yennefer, a Geralt and a Julian are here, could they please come to Centre Management on the first floor? Your daughter Ciri would like to go home.”

* * *

While Geralt put Ciri to bed, Yen ushered Jaskier into the sitting room of her gigantic flat and busied herself with the wine fridge. He would have offered to help, but it didn’t look like there’d be enough to do for two people, and he had a feeling Yen might actually murder him if he dropped her decanter.

So he had a look around the room instead. It was about a sparsely decorated as Geralt’s flat had been when he’d first been there, with all personal touches kept to the bare minimum amid a colour scheme that was an exciting combination of various shades of cream, black, granite and grey. In fact, the only thing that gave any indication to the fact that a real human being might live there was a small photo frame on the mantelpiece with a picture of a slightly younger Yennefer holding a happy toddler Ciri.

It was unlike any of the impressions he had of her, and he kept glancing at the highly accomplished, but most definitely deranged woman who was currently decanting two bottles of red wine at the other end of the room. It was when she returned with two glasses and what looked like a grimace on her face that Jaskier realised: He had never seen her smile before.

“Well, I have to admit it,” Jaskier pointed to the image of Yen and Ciri. “Geralt sure was punching with you.”

Yen gratuitously rolled her eyes at him, but her voice was kind when she clinked her glass with his. “Don’t worry. He still is.”

* * *

“Good night, Ciri.”

Geralt closed the book that he had been reading to her from and placed it on her nightstand. He brushed back the hair from her forehead and leaned down to place one last kiss there before he stood and went to leave the room.

He wouldn’t have known what to do if they hadn’t found her that day. But that danger had passed now. Ciri was tucked away in her bed, exhausted from the day’s events, and everyone else Geralt cared about was safe and under the same roof.

So why was he still feeling a sense of impending doom?

He stepped out of Ciri’s bedroom to the sound of clinking glass from the sitting room, hushed voices, laughter. But that couldn’t be.

From the doorway to the sitting room, he could see Yen and Jaskier sitting huddled together on her couch, sipping wine and laughing at pictures from Jaskier’s phone.

“Geralt! Join us.” Yen patted the couch next to her, but his eyes met Jaskier’s. And there it was. The confirmation that something terrible had just happened.

Geralt let his head fall back to the sound of shrieking laughter.

“Fuck.”

**Author's Note:**

> Come say hi on [tumblr](www.morallygreywaren.tumblr.com) and tell me your favourite thing about Yen and Jaskier :) .xx


End file.
